Supreme Spouse System.

Chapter 250: Where Else But the Bed

Where Else But the Bed

Nova’s bedroom was filled with a golden gloaming—the sort that occurred only at twilight, when the world breathed its secrets in slow whispers. The silk curtains glowed softly, casting honey-patterns on the marble floor. Light seeped from the high windows, dancing idly across the polished surfaces. The air was filled with a calming whiff of chamomile, blended with the more personal aromas of linen, warm flesh, and something deeply hers—earthy, female, and hauntingly familiar.

Leon reclined on the velvet sofa, the burden of the day cast aside along with the rigidity of his black-and-gold robe, loose at the chest now. His golden eyes were molten in the soft light. Nova sat across his lap, her limbs curled around him with a comfort that was a testament to longing too long withheld. Her loose white linen blouse slid fractionally down one shoulder, giving a teasing flash of smooth skin. The fine fabric of her trousers wrinkled a little where her knees bent into the cushions, holding her solid against him.

Their gaze met—hers a bright, sparring green brimming with mischief and import. His, steady and darkened with feeling, pinned her like a spire.

Her fingers wrapped around the delicate material on his shoulders, holding the silk as if it were a lifeline. And then—no longer waiting. Her mouth touched his in a kiss that was neither desperate nor hasty, but rather full—rich with all they hadn’t spoken in years. Soft, slow, almost holy, yet no less engrossing for its slowness.

Leon’s arms pulled her in, his hand tracing down the small of her back, the other closing firmly around her hip. The heat of his palm seeped through the thinness of her shirt, and she breathed into his kiss. The smell of him—spice, heat, a whiff of cedar—overpowered her senses. Their mouths danced in tandem, tasting, testing, savoring. It was not lust—it was memory, hunger, forgiveness, and unspoken vows all interwoven.

Her body rolled against his, and her breath caught as his hand traveled higher up her spine, beneath the fold of her shirt. The linen whispered against itself as it moved with every flexion. The kiss stretched on, dissolving the edges of the world beyond them. No words were spoken between them—only the rush of air caught and exhaled, lips brushing and splitting and finding one another anew.

When at last they parted, a thin thread of silver hung between their lips, shuddering like the final note of a melody. Nova’s chest rose and fell in rhythm with his, breathless, the aura of their moment hanging in the air.

Neither of them blinked. Their eyes remained caught, weighted with what had not been spoken but was now clear.

The court, the war, the tension that forever hung just beyond the palace walls—all of that dissolved into the silence around them. Here, between two heartbeats, they were merely man and woman.

Nova clicked her tongue gently, shattering the silence, though the edges of her lips curled upward with reluctant amusement. ”Tch.”

Leon raised an eyebrow, trapping her face with a spark of amusement in his golden gaze. His tone sounded low, a rumble against her breast. ”What’s happened, my love?”

She stroked back a couple of loose strands of dark hair from her cheek as she sighed forlornly. ”I don’t want to say it,” she grumbled, although her smile gave her away, ”but you... you blasted fool. Your kisses are too bloody wonderful. I can’t help myself.”

A slow, knowing smirk pulled at his lips. His hand slid lazily up her side again, thumb grazing bare skin as his voice dropped to a murmur. ”But I’m yours. Who’s stopping you?”

Leon’s eyes darkened at the sound, but she let out a soft, breathy laugh before he could speak—half fondness, half exasperation. Her gaze sparkled with mischief as she leaned in, her forehead brushing gently against his.

”That’s just the issue,” she breathed, voice charged with something mischievous and threatening.

Nova rolled her eyes, but went from there to digging her hands in his robe for a grip on his collar. And before that could get to be a habit, she yanked him into another kiss.

This time, it was no longer cautious. Their lips met with increasing desperation—teeth scraping, tongues touching and taunting. Pulsing heat grew between them as Leon’s hand moved from her waist to the front of her shirt, fingers sliding through the open buttons with effortless assurance.

Their lips moved in unison, ravenous now, lips open and breath entwined. Each kiss only made them more famished. His hands discovered the warm flesh under the thin linen and traveled up, fingers moving slowly along her belly. She shivered the moment his palm touched—skin to skin, warm and charged.

But she didn’t push him away.

Didn’t react. Didn’t step back. Only released a soft gasp into his mouth, quick and hungry.

His hand wandered further until it held one breast—naked, warm, and soft in his hand. She wasn’t wearing a bra. He discovered it with a shock. He said nothing, only smiled faintly against her lips, as if he’d found a secret shared only with him.

His thumb stroked over her nipple, hesitantly slow. Her breath hesitated, and her back arched almost imperceptibly in reaction. That subtle movement in her body, that silent entreaty—it emboldened him. His hand crept higher, fingers coaxing, until the entire weight of her lay in his caress.

Nova let out a little noise at the back of her throat, half-moan, half-sigh. ”Mnhhh...” The gentle noise hardly had time to escape when he kissed her once more, catching it against his lips and devouring it whole.

The other hand, still on her hip, squeezed softly. His fingers pushed against her through the loose material of her trousers, anchoring her, holding her tight. The distance between them closed to nothing, the air heavy with hot-rising tension and the unspoken energy that had been building too long.

Gods, she’s soft. So responsive.

And she could feel it now—his erection, rigid under her, impossible to miss as she rode his lap. The thickness of his robe hardly did anything to hide how hard he’d become.

Nova moved, hips rolling slowly against him, probing the feeling.

Leon groaned—a deep, guttural sound torn from somewhere low in his chest. His head dropped forward, forehead nearly pressing to her shoulder. That single movement, that teasing grind, had unraveled what little restraint he still clung to.

She smirked, exhaling near his lips. ”You’re hard already. Tch.”

His voice was hoarse, rough with desire. ”You grind against me like that and expect otherwise?”

”Maybe...” She leaned forward, lips tracing over his chin, ”I like the fact that I can do this to you.”

His air was caught again, yet he said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Instead, Leon’s hand stirred—this time with unmistakable purpose. He unbuttoned another, then another, until the loose blouse gaped open far enough to show the soft curve of her collarbone and the rosy upper rise of her breasts. He leaned in and kissed her there—slow, worshipful, lips warm and open as they mapped her skin.

Nova gasped at the touch, her body trembling as his thumb resumed its slow, lazy circles over her nipple. Each brush made her arch again, hips pressing down against him instinctively.

He chuckled quietly, his voice low and dark with need.

”You’re dangerous,” he murmured against her skin, lips skimming the curve of her throat.

”And you’re slow,” she shot back, shivering as his mouth followed the trail of newly exposed skin, tongue teasing, breath hot.

Leon unfastened the last button close to her collar, exposing her more fully, and slipped his hand under the material once more. This time, he didn’t play around. His hand covered her breast in its entirety, cradling her in a sort of reverent hunger. She relaxed into his hand, eyes drifting shut as her breathing grew more rapid.

The space between them had become too hot—heavy with the intermingling scents of chamomile, silken fabric, and the lightest whiff of skin. Golden light poured slowly through the embroidered drapes, casting shadows across the room, bathing their bodies in amber and yearning. All of it resonated with the silence that was so present only when want threatened at the verge—restrained but waiting to spill over.

Neither of them stepped to prevent it. Neither would.

Leon leaned in, his lips tracing down the soft curve of her neck. Warm breath on her skin, the path of kisses he left on her sparking fires that curled in her stomach. He drifted lower, leaving a gentle kiss just above where her linen shirt started, slow and deliberate.

Nova’s fingers buried in his dark hair, pulling hard with a need that was no longer shy. ”Idiot...” she sighed, her voice a husky whisper. ”Carry me.”

He gazed up—golden eyes focusing on her with that look that always seemed to make her the only thing he saw. There was heat in it, yes, but tenderness too—something deeper.

”To bed?” His voice low, teasing, edged with amusement and desire.

”Where else?” she murmured, cheeks flushed, breath unsteady. ”I’m not grinding your dick like a drunk fool for nothing.”

Leon’s mouth curved into a crooked grin.

Without ado, he stood—smooth, sure, and solid—his arms closing beneath her as if she were weightless. She instinctively folded her legs about his waist, her arms coming around his shoulders, and her face nestled in the crook of his neck. The smell of her skin, warm and familiar, went directly to his head.

She held him close, as if the moment would slip away from her. Her lips touched his jaw, warm and teasing. Then his cheek. Then the edge of his mouth.

He carried her in his arms, every step towards the bed slow, deliberate, but ravenous. Each kiss she planted on his way only made it more difficult to concentrate—like she was seeing how long he could resist. Her lips brushed against his skin, her breath caressed his collarbone, and the way she held on to him—it caused his stride to stumble, just once.

He lost his footing for a moment, steadying himself with a hard step along the side of the bed. Nova’s laughter was airy, breathless, and wrapped itself around the back of his spine.

”Attempt to get me to trip?” he replied, half-smiling, although his tone had become rougher.

”Perhaps I prefer to fall with you,” she said, her words low and wicked.

Her words were hardly out of her mouth before fate struck once more. The rug’s edge rolled under his foot, and they tumbled together—arms, legs, laughter—all in a tangle thrown into the bed in a flurry of heat and motion.

Leon came down first, his back against the bed, a low grunt escaping him as Nova settled on top of him, still laughing. Her shirt had inched up a bit, and the gold-and-black of his robe had split at his chest, revealing warm skin and the sound of his swift breathing.

”Clumsy,” she chided, her tone light as she peered down at him.

”I’m carrying a goddess,” he shot back, smirking up at her. ”That’s sacred weight.”

Their gazes locked again, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The golden light spilled over them just then, soft and warm, catching in her dark hair and making her look like something holy and forbidden all at once.

Leon eased gently, his hands leading her as he rolled her off of him—lowering her onto the bed like a fragile sacrifice. The silk sheets whispered against her, the light of the sunset haloing her like dusk and fire. Her hair spread across the pillows, a dark storm of silk and shadow, and her eyes—green, melted, waiting—froze him in place for a heartbeat.

He loomed over her, one hand grasping beside her head, the other slipping up under the gentle fabric of her shirt, fingers tracing the curve of her waist. Her hands rose once more, drawing him in, until their lips joined in a kiss that seared hotter than the last—not only with need, but with years of longing and sorrow and all the words left unspoken between them.

They kissed over and over again—slow, then deep, then painful—until her gentle gasps and his shuddering restraint got all twisted up in the air like spun silk threads tightening.

The sun wasn’t even fully set yet. That golden, honey-colored hour still clung—barely.

But the darkness... the darkness had already started.